нer wordѕ, ѕмιle αɴd lαυɢн wιll нαυɴт yoυr мιɴd
by EnglishTeacup
Summary: She'd never appeared before them and then she wanted her independence. It was an impossible task. Yet she'd succeed. Antarctica - OC - not a lovestory - mild violence, but more mindgames. Rated T for sure. Reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

They had all received a letter; yet none of them noticed the letter being written slightly different. For all of them, this was just another meeting called together for some shady reason nobody knew and nobody ever would know. None of the countries really cared about the reason, either. They just had to come, disagree for a few hours and then dissappear, back to where they came from. They didn't even care to read the letter, just looked at the date and went packing.

Not reading it was their very first mistake. But it wasn't the last. It was néver the last.

Because if they'd read it, they would have noticed some slightly different ways of writing. For instance, the letter was written on a typewriter and not on a computer or laptop. Second of all, it was adressed to a very… differing range of countries. You had Norway, France, Germany, Russia and Great-Britain, but on the other hand, Australia and New-Zealand had gotten letter too. Even Chile, Peru, Argentine and America were included on the list. But there were no others. It was a very strange list of very eccentric countries who had absolutely nothing in common. Well, not all of them.

But none of them read the letter, so when they arrived at the big hall where, two weeks ago, the World Conference had taken place, they were surprised to see eachother, but more importantly; groups were formed directly after arrival. New-Zealand, Australia and America sat together, staring at Britain and discussing his odd behaviour – for they were all former colonies of the thick-eyebrowed nation – while the British Empire sat down with his tea, politely trying to converse with Germany and Norway, who were trying to ignore France's sexual innuendos during the conversation. Russia sat alone. The South-American countries were huddled together, rapidly speaking Spanish and arguing all over the place. But the one who had sent the letter, hadn't arrived yet.

After maybe half an hour, the German nation couldn't take it anymore and slammed his hand on the table. **'EVERYBODY QUIET!'** He shouted in his heavy, German accent and as usual, the whole party broke of their conversation immediately. Even Alfred – who was trying to shove a hamburger down New-Zealand's throat – stopped shouting how heroic he was.** 'Has anyone,'** Ludwig spoke, rubbing against the side of his head as if he were annoyed,** 'Anyone, seen the organisor of this meeting?'** The silence deepened even more. Nobody said a word. It was true – noone had actually seen the one who called all of them here.

'**Question! The hero has a question!' ** America shouted, breaking the awkward silence that had filled the room. He'd jumped out of his chair, holding his ever-present hamburger in the air. **'What is it, Alfred?'** Arthur asked, seemingly annoyed by the sound of his voice alone.** 'Who called us here? I mean, heroic as I am, I didn't have the time to read the letter – had to save the world and stuff. Anyone who did?'** Even Germany shook his head, even though he usually read the post. It just didn't seem important at the time he'd gotten the letter. Strange.

Chaos returned to the room, with countries shouting at each other, making more noise than a kindergarten on an early Monday-morning. Australia and New-Zealand started asking each other questions, America had decided to argue with Russia, England and France were shouting at each other while Germany tried to keep them from fighting, Chile and Peru were already hitting each other and everyone around them – including Argentine, who had done nothing wrong- while Norway just sat there. He wondered if he'd been the only one who noticed the sudden chill in the air, as if the windows had opened when the chaos had begun. At the moment he decided he'd imagined it, the others froze in their actions, staring at the head of the table. The Norse man followed their eyes and his usually emotionless face was painted with surprise.

At the head of the table stood a young girl – or a young woman, for she looked like seventeen and you couldn't really call that a girl anymore. Her long, white hair danced on a non-existing gust of wind, while her eyes – ice blue, like the sky on a clear day – were fixed on a point on the wall. When she noticed that her presence had been sensed, she smiled and glanced at every country for a while.** 'Please,' ** she smiled, though her eyes didn't smile with her mouth,** 'Sit down.'**

'**Who are you?'** Alfred protested, fearless and stupid as ever,** 'And what are you doing here?'** The girl merely smiled again, fixing her ice blue orbs on the face of the United States of America.** 'I'm obviously the one who called you here, Alfred. My name is Nieva.'** Her voice was like snow being crushed, soft and delicate, yet it sent a shiver down their spines.** 'Nieva,'** Argentine echooed.** 'Isn't that Spanish for snow?'** The girl nodded, almost grinned.** 'Why yes, it is. But I'm better known under my global name.'** Francis decided to ask the obvious question.** 'Well, mon cherié, I do not know a Nieva. What is your global name?'**

The girl sat down, crossed her legs and straightened her back.** 'My name,'** she answered,** 'Is Antarctica.'**


	2. Chapter 2

'**Who are you?'** Alfred protested, fearless and stupid as ever,** 'And what are you doing here?'** The girl merely smiled again, fixing her ice blue orbs on the face of the United States of America.** 'I'm obviously the one who called you here, Alfred. My name is Nieva.'** Her voice was like snow being crushed, soft and delicate, yet it sent a shiver down their spines.** 'Nieva,'** Argentine echooed.** 'Isn't that Spanish for snow?'** The girl nodded, almost grinned.** 'Why yes, it is. But I'm better known under my global name.'** Francis decided to ask the obvious question.** 'Well, mon cherié, I do not know a Nieva. What is your global name?'**

The girl sat down, crossed her legs and straightened her back.** 'My name,'** she answered,** 'Is Antarctica.'**

'**My name,'** she answered,** 'Is Antarctica.'** She closed her eyes, ignored the gasps, the soft whispers, the sound of her name being repeated by several countries.** 'And I'm here to discuss a certain treaty.'** With that, she threw a piece of paper on the table. No-one paid attention to the document; they just stared at her.

There was no real shock, no real chaos. Just a silence that seemed to occupy the whole room, a silence that slowly crept into their minds. It crept into their thoughts, silenced every voice in their heads. The only thing that was audible in the room, was the sound of a teacup crashing on the floor. Arthur Kirkland had dropped his cream-tea. Everywhere, in everyone's minds, the same question arose; what? What did she just say?

There was no such thing as Antarctica. It was bloody impossible for this little girl to be a continent, the British Empire told himself. Just look at her, he thought. She can't be much older than eighteen. This had to be some kind of sick joke. He'd visited Antarctica several times and he'd néver even heard of something like a personification of the continent. All of this was set up by some of the other countries to pull a prank on them. There was no other explanation.

And yet; if this girl was who – or rather what – she claimed to be, then this was a serious situation. New countries didn't just… emerge, all out of the blue. If this Nieva – if that even was her real name – was Antarctica and she wanted to discuss her treaty – that conclusion didn't really take Sherlock Holmes to solve; the subject was obviously the Antarctic Treaty – they had to take this matter seriously.

The South-Pole had always been a very delicate subject to discuss; for their claims were not official – some countries even rejected to recognize the claims – and some of the territories overlapped each other. The Treaty, however, was a subject that'd been concluded a long time ago; the British nation didn't see why she'd want to discuss that. It didn't affect her in any negative way, as far as he could see. Actually, it protected her from becoming a scarred body, destroyed by war.

At last, there was some kind of movement. Someone had pushed their chair back. All the heads turned towards the sound; Russia had stood up from his chair.** 'Antarctica, huh?' **His thick, Russian accent was laced with sarcasm.** 'Vhat do you think you are doing, little girl? Did you really think vhe are morons?' **The threatening way he threw the words at the girl – the Russian didn't like people who wasted his time and this girl was on the verge of annoying him enough to burst – didn't seemingly affect Nieva. She just shook her head, smiled her fake smile.

'**Please sit down, I wasn't done speaking. It's very rude to interrupt your host, Ivan.'** Pupils dillated, breaths were held. This girl was obviously trying to get herself killed, talking to the Russian nation like that. But instead of getting back at the girl who had just adressed him in a very bold manner, Ivan just sat down again. Somehow, she'd managed to impress Russia. Or, to be precise, she'd scared him for a second. Her cold eyes had fixed on his violet ones and he'd felt a cold running through his body, a cold he could only relate to the chill General Winter brought with him. It didn't make him believe her to be a continent, but it did surprise him for a second or two. Enough to make him sit down again.

'**As I was saying,'** Nieva continued, keeping her eyes fixed on Russia, who avoided her eyes,** 'I want to discuss the treaty. And I'm not leaving until that's done.'** No-one dared to disagree, but Alfred did have another question.** 'Hey missy, what makes you think we believe you? I haven't heard of you before. None of us has, judging on the reactions.'** The white-haired girl's smile dissappeared.** 'I just never felt like I needed any of you.' **She spoke stiffly. It was true. This whole appearance was a bit far-fetched. But there was no other way, she had to do it like this.** 'That's why you didn't see me. I'm quite big, you know.'** she shrugged. This was harder then she'd thought it'd be.

**'Give us a moment,' **America asked, smiling as if he were a genius who'd just found out why electrons did or did not have a mass.** 'Guys, huddle!' **England raised a thick eyebrow, but he did get out of his chair and walked towards the American, everyone else following. They stood there as if they were a football team, trying to think of a strategy. But instead of talking about quarterbacks and defence, they were talking about the young woman at the other side of the room.

Of course they didn't accept her explanation; it was like saying that she was a pear and not an apple, just because no-one had ever seen a pear. She could be a strawberry as much as she could be a pear. It just wasn't realistic that someone – something – that big could've hidden away from them. If she really existed, they'd known her. They agreed on that, as if Nieva wasn't even there. She wasn't, actually. Her mind had drifted off, she just sat there. Frozen. The girl tried to think why she'd decided on this approach; there were easier ways than this one. And yet she'd wanted to make an impression. Why? She actually had, for one of the first times in her life, not the slightest idea.

'**Okay, we've decided!'** Alfred shouted, as all of them went back to their chairs.** 'You can't really be Antarctica. You're too small, we've never seen you before and you are not even a country, so therefore, you are an average human who is trying to pull a prank on me, the hero. And the hero does not like getting pranked.'** No reaction. She didn't even blink.

'**Hello? Anyone home?'** The American walked towards the white haired girl, waving his hands before her eyes. She grabbed his wrist.** 'It's just like a religion, you know.'** She softly spoke.** 'You can choose to believe it or choose to not believe in it. But there's no wrong or right. I can't prove you that I'm real- yet. But you can't prove me wrong. I ám the South Pole. Please. Just listen to me.'** It was a soft, emotionless voice that went throught your mind like a knife; it destroyed the silence like a thunderstorm.** 'I'm dying.'**

_So, not much is happening here and I'm sorry for that, but I have to write all of this background information-character-development-thoughts-of-people-stuff before I can get to the real storyline._


End file.
